Second Chances
by gumtuu
Summary: A Cupid/Beauty and The Beast Crossover
1. Default Chapter

SECOND CHANCES A story about the tv show, Cupid  
and the tv show Beauty and the Beast  
by Steve 0yervidez  
gumtuu@hotmail.com  
  
  
Disclaimer : I don't own the rights to these guys from either show. I do this for fun, not profit.  
Don't sue me :)   
  
  
  


Snowflakes were falling over Central Park, covering the frozen ground in a wide blanket of white. Shining through the hazy deluge were the distant lights of the skyscrapers ringing the edges of the park's open expanse, glittering like towers made of candles as night fell. The snow caked the bare tree limbs as people walked underneath, wrapped against the cold and scurrying to the side whenever an errant breeze sent a shower of flakes sprinkling down upon them. The air was crisp. An overcast December sky loomed overhead with the threat of more snow. One figure approached. Trevor Hale. His breath misting before him, he wandered the park. Indecision played across his face. He was uncertain he should do what he had come to New York to do.  
He knew she was here. He had already passed by her apartment several times without finding the courage to knock on her door. It was a strange sensation for him. As the god of love, he had always been so confident, so forthright. Now he was reluctant, cautious. As he stood there amongst the bare trees, he realized for the first time why humans were sometimes so scared of love, so scared of the risks involved. He wanted to tell her. He had been miserable since she had left. But he didn't know how she would respond. Scenarios played out in his mind. Not all of them good. and thinking about them, he understood how hearts could break.  
Trevor shook his head. _This is crazy_, he thought to himself, smiling when he realized that Claire would catagorically agree with _that_ assertion. What could he possibly hope to accomplish? He knew how she felt. He knew how she saw him. What possible chance did he have? But how could he not tell her? He thought about her night and day. Everything he saw, everything he did was context'd through her in his heart, his mind. Would she like this, would she like that, wanting to ask Claire's opinion even when he knew he would never follow it. He missed her. More than he had ever thought he could miss a mortal. Her eyes still burned in his mind.  
He didn't know what to do. All the advice he so freely gave seemed so much more complex when it was about him and Claire. He could hear his own voice berating himself in his mind. _Just tell her ya pinhead!_ But still he waited, as the sky began to darken, and the park emptied out.  
Standing there stomping his feet in the cold he saw something. A lone figure walked quietly through the park. A large cloak protected the person from the wind, totally obscuring his face. He seemed to keep to the park backways, staying away from the sidewalks. Something about him caught Trevor's eye, and he turned to follow.  
It was a long and complex path that the unknown figure led Trevor on. First there was a storm drain in a back corner of the park. Trevor shrugged, assuming the man lived there. Something about the way the man walked spoke of a great sadness. The urge to help this person pulled at Trevor's chest, and heedless of the danger, he followed him in. In the darkness ahead he heard a grinding sound as if something heavy moved. When he finally moved towards it, he found nothing but a grate over a steel wall. He leaned against a brick beside it, wondering where the man had gone, when he felt one of the bricks shift. Pulling it, the wall began to slide away, revealing a dry, dim hallway beyond lit by a distant light. Trevor pulled open the grating and stepped through. This time he quickly found the corresponding switch on the door's other side.  
The passages he travelled through were varied and confusing. As he followed, he couldn't explain the senses that led him. More and more he was realizing that there was something different about the man. Something he couldn't place his finger on. The passage eventually lead to a broken wall. The room beyond glowed with a shaft of light falling from the ceiling. As Trevor passed through it, he had an image of a woman standing there waiting on the man in the cloak. But it passed quickly from his mind. Behind the shaft of light was a ladder, set into the wall. He climbed up, pushing open the covering and stepping into a building basement.  
As he looked around, trying to get a sense of his surroundings, he suddenly heard the whine of an elevator lifting. It was close, behind one of the nearby grates, and somehow he knew the man was on it, heading up. He took the door out of the basement and into the lobby.  
Wherever he was, it was definitely upscale. The lobby was ornate, and outside the glass doors to the street a doorman waited patiently. Trevor tried to blend in as much as he could. He walked over to the elevator, whistling to himself as he pushed the button to go up. A bell sounded and the doors opened. Trevor darted in and pressed for the top floor.  
When he finally made it to the rooftop, Trevor noticed the sky had gone dark, a dim gray as the city lights reflected onto the falling snow. Closing the door softly behind him, he looked around, certain the hooded figure was there somehow. Looking down he saw them. Boot prints in the snow. Trevor inched forward, following them with as much stealth as he could.  
A breeze whispered over the rooftop, sending a flurry of snowflakes into Trevor's face. He brushed them away, stepping forward and closer to the building's edge. Skyscraper lights glittered all around. The footsteps led un erringly to a small balcony one floor directly beneath Trevor. Looking down, he suddenly spotted him.  
The figure he had been following was there, standing in the shadows of the balcony as a soft light from the windows within fell warmly onto the empty space before him. Trevor blinked, not quite sure what he was seeing. The man was gazing through the window, forlornly watching what was happening inside. Trevor tilted his head to listen, and he could just make out the sounds of laughter. The laughter seemed to crush the watching man, his shoulders slumping in the shadows. Softly, the man touched the windowsill, face still hidden beneath his cloak. Trevor could see he wore strange gloves of some type.  
The hooded man pulled his hand back, and somehow Trevor sensed that he finally accepted what he saw in some fashion. But even from where Trevor stood, he could tell the man was heartbroken, as if were losing something or someone precious and dear to him. Snowflakes continued to flitter downward from Trevor to where the man stood, a delicate shower of quiet white. Calmly gathering his cloak tighter around him, the man said nothing. Then Trevor heard the shadowed figure whisper in a deep, rich voice that was full of compassion.  
"Goodbye, Catherine. Have a happy life."  
The man turned, about to climb up onto the roof once more, and Trevor scrambled away. He darted over to the door that accessed the rooftop, hiding behind the small structure enclosing the stairs leading downward. As Trevor placed his face against the cold wall, he heard footsteps in the snow. Cominging closer, Trevor waited for several seconds as they approached. At the last moment he took a breath, before calling softly out in a calm voice.  
"So who is she?"  
He could hear that the footsteps had stopped instantly.  
The air itself seemed to pause, as Trevor waited to see what would happen. The silence was deafening, filled with posibilities. The man's voice was deep, soothing. "Who is there?"  
Trevor smiled. "A friend I hope. Who is she? The woman in the apartment back there?"  
The man said nothing for several moments, snowflakes still falling all around. Then he spoke, sounding surprised. "I thought I heard someone, but I was unsure. You could do Mouse proud. Still, I was careless."  
Trevor stepped into view from behind the small staircase housing. "It may surprise some people who know me, but I can be quiet when I have to be." He looked over to where the balcony was. "You miss her, whoever she is..."  
The hooded man watched patiently, face still hidden. "How did you find me? Who are you?"  
"I followed you. When I saw you in the park, something told me you could use a friend." Trevor blew into his hands to warm them.  
"You're a stranger to me," the man said. Even though he couldn't see his face, Trevor felt the man watching him carefully as he spoke, evaluating him. "But you're a stranger who is willing to help another stranger. A rare thing... in this city."  
Trevor nodded. "Some would say I'm a rare type of stranger." Laughing, he continued. "I doubt you've meet anyone like me before."  
The hooded man still seemed cautious, but Trevor could hear amusement in his voice. "The same could be said of me, I imagine."  
"Brothers in arms then!" Trevor flashed his best smile. "Maybe I can help you. What's you're name?"  
The hooded man paused, uncertain. But somehow he trusted this man, this stranger, who had followed him. "Vincent..."  
"Hi, I'm Trevor Hale, god of-" Trevor stopped himself, deciding that this man needed his help and not wanting to scare him off. "On second thought, just call me Trevor."  
"Trevor..."  
"So what's her name? The woman in the window?"  
Vincent turned, face still hidden as he looked out over the city. He seemed reluctant to talk about it.  
Trevor pressed on. "Someone you know, right? Someone you love? Who is she?" he asked again.  
The man turned to face Trevor again, a shadow against the city lights. "She... is everything. Her name is Catherine."  
Trevor nodded. He looked down in understanding, recognizing the adoration in the man's voice. "I know the feeling..."  
Vincent watched Trevor's expression and felt a sudden empathy for him. In the shadows of his cloak he smiled to himself. "Trevor, if I may ask. What is _her_ name?"  
Surprised, Trevor looked up, knowing instantly who Vincent referred to. He looked back down again as he got a far away look in his eyes. "Claire," he said simply. "Her name is Claire."  
"I see."  
Trevor glanced back at the roof edge where the balcony was, just out of view. "So why don't you go talk to Catherine? What's holding you back, out here alone in the snow?"  
"I am uncertain she should see me again. Or would even want to, given the choice."  
"Why not?"  
Vincent sighed. "I would complicate her life, as I did before. Or put her in danger. Looking back on all that's happened, sometimes I think it would have been better if she had never know me."  
"Did I just hear a bell ring, Mr. Bailey?" Trevor smiled but quickly he became more pensive. He thought about Claire, about how her life and his might have been different. "I think I can understand that," he said. "But maybe she does want to see you again. Why did you stop? Seeing her in the first place, I mean."  
"I thought she was dead."  
That took Trevor by surprise. "You know that once a day people tend to fall a sleep. That doesn't mean..."  
Vincent sighed. "Not like this sleep. A deep unexpected sleep, that no kiss could dispel. A sleep that I was made to believe was her death. Even as I stood over her grave, I did not know it was otherwise, and I should have. Catherine and I were connected. I could feel what she felt. I knew where she was, without looking. But when I looked down on her grave I felt... nothing. So I was certain."  
"But then you found out she was still alive?"  
Vincent nodded. "Yes. A ruse to protect her from some very dangerous men. A ruse that has cost her all memory of her past, and apparently of me. Once I sensed her again, sensed her near, I hardly believed it. When I realized it was true, I hoped she would find me. Remember our life together. But there was nothing. There is nothing. She never came."  
Trevor looked at Vincent, sadness emanating off of him. His next words to the shadowy figure were plain, as if it were all so simple in the end. "Did she love you?"  
"Yes," was the soft, aching reply. Trevor felt the loss in Vincent's voice.  
"Then how is it better for you not to be in her life?"  
Vincent gazed at Trevor with tired eyes, a wounded soul. "Because each life's journey is unique and unexpected. I would have never imagined being here again, on her rooftop. I would never have imagined a life without Catherine. But perhaps that is what should be."  
Trevor looked at the hooded man, surprised that in a way he faced the same questions himself when it came to bringing Claire back into his life. Should he tell her? Reveal how he felt? What good could come of it? Claire thought he was delusional, would she even believe him if he did? Could he stand her not believing?  
Vincent continued in a soft voice, almost speaking to himself. "I've come up here several times, to ask myself. Would she have been better off without me? It is a question that I must now answer again. And have answered." Sighing, he looked over at Trevor. "I have come only to say goodbye."  
As if that was all that was needed, Vincent turned to leave.  
"What was it like when she was gone, Vincent?"  
Vincent stopped. "What do you mean?"  
"When you thought she was dead. When she was no longer in your life. Did you feel like..." Trevor looked away as if remembering, "like part of you died as well?"  
The shadowed figure considered it. "Yes..."  
Trevor nodded. "Like suddenly your world didn't make any sense because the most important part of it was gone. And that not even your new therapist, or your work, your mission, could fill the empty space she left when she was no longer with you..."  
Vincent turned back to him. "Claire. I hear her in your voice. In your words. This Claire of yours. Why did she leave?"  
Trevor smiled sadly. "She got a new job. Here in New York. And one of her ex-boyfriends is here too. She was going to try to patch things up with him. I came to New York to see her, but I haven't yet. See, I don't really live here. I live in Chicago," Trevor explained, "at least temporarily until I can get back home."  
"And where is you're home?"  
Trevor laughed. "Very far away."  
Vincent looked at him. "Strange. From how you speak of her, I would have thought that home... would be where Claire is. Perhaps it is not as far as you think."  
Nodding, Trevor smiled in agreement. "Maybe. Yeah. It could be just around the corner." He gave Vincent a look. "Or just around the rooftop."  
Vincent chuckled. "Both are equally close. Or equally distant, from certain points of view. Since both of us are still just standing here."  
Trevor motioned towards the balcony. "I think she would like to see you."  
  
  


NEXT PAGE


	2. 

PREVIOUS PAGE

  
  
  
Vincent lowered his head. "It is for the best that she does not, Trevor."  
"How is that best? You said that she loved you."  
"Yes... once."  
"And now?"  
"Now," he sighed. "I would be nothing but a stranger to her. A fearful stranger."  
Trevor shook his head. "You don't look so fearful to me."  
Vincent paused, his sad voice almost angry. "Why do you encourage me so, when I know that I'm right? You have not seen. I am different than others. I would... frighten her."  
"She saw you before right? Before she lost her memory?"  
"Yes," Vincent whispered plaintively, as if the image never left his thoughts.  
Trevor leaned his head forward, curious. "And how did she react?"  
Vincent chuckled, surprised how he now treasured a memory that once gave him pain. "She threw a metal tray at me."  
"Ouch," Trevor said with sympathy. "Must have hurt. Having all those objects thrown at you constantly whenever you saw her. That's rough, man."  
"No, she only did so the first time she saw me"  
"I see." Trevor nodded. "So she got used to you. Used to what makes you different. Accustomed to what makes you who you are. To your... let's call it 'uniqueness'. Why couldn't she again?"  
"Because those memories are gone, Trevor." There was pain in his voice.  
Not reason enough for Trevor."That just mean's there's more room for new ones. She's still the same at heart. Believe me, I know. Kinda the expert in this area."  
Vincent looked over, amused at his enthusiasm, but wondering about him. _Who is this man?_ "What about you, Trevor? Why are you here alone? Having a polite converasation with a complete stranger. Standing on a cold rooftop in the middle of New York city, instead of being with Claire? Why have you not gone to her?"  
Trevor sighed. "It's complicated."  
"I see." Vincent sounded liked Trevor wasn't willing to take his own advice.  
Recognizing the tone in Vincent's voice, Trevor tried to explain. "She... used to be a therapist, before she became a full time book author." Trevor paused, uncertain how Vincent would respond. "_My_ therapist, actually. See, some people think,well... that I'm a few pillars short of a Parthenon. But we became friends while she treated me. And then I realized that... I loved her. But to her I'm just some crackpot. A failed case file that she was unable to cure. I tried to convince her I don't need curing, but... Anyway, that's not important. She's got a new life now. And she's here to be with Alex."  
"Hmm. Strange of her to forget so often, Trevor."  
Trevor didn't understand what Vincent meant. "Forget what?"  
"Your condition. The delusional veil that you use to see the world. She must have forgotten it quite repeatedly, if you became close enough to become friends."  
Trevor smiled, realizing the tables Vincent was turning. "She didn't forget, she-"  
"So she was aware of your condition," Vincent finished for him. "How did she react to it?"  
Trevor nodded, seeing the long visible point finally arrive. "Well, she didn't throw any dinner-ware at me," he said lightly. "Although I'm sure she wished she had sometimes. But she doesn't believe me either."  
Vincent nodded. "She became used to what makes you different, Trevor. Became important to you, close to you. Perhaps you should consider whether she felt the same way."  
Trevor wasn't so sure. "No, I know Claire. She'll never see me as anything but a psychiatric outpatient with a surplus of charm." He smiled. "And remarkable good looks..."  
"Perhaps." Vincent smiled. His voice was deep, encouraging. "But we must all be true to our natures, Trevor. You must find the courage, and the strength, to be true to yours. I belive that deep inside of yourself, you already know the answer. Or you wouldn't be here."  
They stood silently, surprised at how much they had said to each other, how much they had revealed after having know each other for only a few minutes. Snowflakes still fell all around. As Trevor looked down, he suddenly noticed Vincent's hands, uncovered. They were clawed. He wasn't wearing gloves after all.  
"Vincent," Trevor looked at the man. "Let me see what you're afraid Catherine will see. Just a little test run. Not that I'll run, sorry, bad choice of words... Let me see your face."  
Vincent seemed reluctant, glancing at the rooftop where her balcony was. "She would only see me as a monster."  
"Show me, Vinnie boy."  
Vincent stood silently, only a shadowy outline before Trevor. But then slowly, reluctantly he reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing his features, outlined dimly in the glow from all the building lights glittering through the falling snow.  
"Wow," Trevor whispered, and he smiled. "I haven't seen someone like you since I was back home. You remind me a little of a centaur, only different. It's a good look for you, though. Very cool man."  
Vincent was surprised. Trevor hadn't recoiled or pulled back in fear. Most people he met did upon seeing him for the first time. He would see the shock in their faces when they were confronted with something beyond their concept of what the world contained. But Trevor didn't seem to have that problem. Trevor had said he had seen others similar to him back home, and Vincent wondered just what Trevor was being treated for.  
"It is your turn, Mr. Hale. This therapist of yours. What does she see when you pull back your cloak?"  
Trevor nodded, realizing it was only fair. He shoved his hand forward. "Hi. I'm Trevor Hale. Cupid, immortal god of love at your service."  
Vincent smiled. "It suits you." reaching forward he shook Trevor's hand.  
"See? Look at that-" Trevor laughed once for emphasis. "Meeting people is fun! Go talk to Catherine. Remind her of what you had together."  
Vincent looked uncertain, so Trevor pressed on.  
"Think back to that feeling when she was gone, man. When you lost her. Remember how it felt. How you would have given anything for the chance to see her again. Then look around. That's exactly where you are right now."  
Trevor thought about himself and Claire, about his own reluctance. He suddenly smiled at how simple it seemed. At how foolish he had been. "If I can come all the way to New York on some foolish hope or pointless dream, you can at least cross a rooftop. Take the chance! Don't throw it away."  
Vincent looked towards Catherine's balcony. "I'd be a stranger to her..."  
"Then be a stranger!" Trevor encouraged. "But don't let this opportunity pass. You may never get it again."  
Vincent said nothing. Trevor rubbed his arms to bring some warmth back into them. "Look Vincent, I've got to go. You've been a big help to me. I need to go see a very... very cute shrink."  
Vincent turned. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sir Cupid." He bowed in thanks.  
Trevor smiled. "Like wise, Sir Centaur. But I don't think I'll mention you to Claire. She definitely wouldn't believe me. And besides she thinks I'm crazy enough as it is. Goodbye, Vincent. And good luck."  
Trevor moved off, disappearing down the stairs into the building beneath them, leaving Vincent alone on the rooftop. Vincent stood there as the snow fell on his head, before he pulled his hood back up again, covering his face in shadow.  
He sighed and turned away, heading back for the underground tunnels where he lived. After so long, he could sense Catherine's feelings again. Sense her trying to adjust to her new surroundings. Sensed her unease. The last thing she needed was more turmoil in her life. If she had remembered him, she would have sought him out. But she hadn't. So it was for the best that he let Catherine go.  
Turning one last time, he looked towards her balcony again, noticing that his footsteps in the snow were almost gone, covered by the new snow still falling form the gray night sky. Slowly the footsteps continued to fade, covered in white and forgotten, just like he would be.  
The image stayed in Vincent's mind. All he and Catherine had had together, gone. He wouldn't even be a memory. The snow continued to fall silently onto the now empty rooftop.  
Out of nowhere, Vincent's boot filled the first step again, creating new footsteps as walked back up the disappearing path, headed for Catherine's balcony.  
He dropped softly onto it again, not making a sound. He moved over to the windows and looked in. The people Catherine had been with earlier were gone. She sat alone on her couch, reading a book as a candle flickered behind her. A glass of wine was on the end table, untouched. Catherine put down the book, not finding any interest in what she read. Carefully she rose, leaving the book behind.  
As Vincent watched, Catherine grabbed her overcoat, drapping it over her shoulders, preparing to leave. Vincent felt a pull, a pull to reach up and knock on her window before she was gone again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, hand in mid-air. Catherine tied the coat around her waist. But instead of walking out of the apartment, she stepped toward her balcony doors, and unknowingly, towards Vincent.  
Quickly Vincent retreated to a corner of the balcony, hiding in the shadows as the doors opened smoothly outward under Catherine's hands. Classical music, Grieg's piano concerto, flowed out onto her balcony, coming softly from within. Not seeing Vincent, she walked over to the waist high brick wall at her balcony's edge. She looked out over the city, her expression melancholy. Catherine tilted her face upward, letting the snowflakes land on her face.  
Vincent watched her, astounded she was so close. He felt the pull, the urge to step forward. And the fear. Until he remembered the image of his fading footsteps. And finally... he did, stepping into the light pouring out of her apartment, hood still concealing his face. His senses were alive. He couldn't believe he was doing this, risking everything. But then again, he had done the same countless times before, to be with her. Catherine didn't notice, her eyes closed as she tried to catch a snowflake on her tongue.  
"Catherine..."  
Suddenly she tensed, turning awkwardly as she saw his shadow outlined there against the light. She pulled back quickly, drawing in a surprised breath.  
Vincent couldn't stop now. His clawed hands reached up... and pulled back his hood, revealing his face, bared between them. Her eyes went wide.  
"Vincent..." she whispered, voice wavering on the edge of tears as her eyes began to moisten. She gasped. "My god, I thought... I thought you were only a dream!"  
Catherine didn't recoil. Vincent saw recognition in her eyes. She laughed out of sheer joy, a quiet sound as she looked at him, one tear falling down her cheek.  
"Oh, I've missed you Vincent!" She ran forward and into his arms, holding his surprised shoulders tight.  
"Catherine, I-"  
Before he could finish, she wrapped her arms around his face and kissed him, fully and deeply. Vincent felt his hands tremble, overwhelmed. A tear fell down his cheek too as he held her close, the need for words gone. They stood there in the light from her apartment, two small figures alone in a large bustling city that glittered with lights as far as the eye could see. Two lovers reunited at last, kissing each other warmly as if no one else existed. The snow fell slowly all around, and the world seemed complete.  
  
  
Trevor passed Claire's doorstep again, but he didn't stop, walking straight past for what seemed like the hundredth time. Finally he turned around and walked back, standing on the sidewalk and away from the door. The windows were lit inside. Claire was definitely home. Taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, he moved up the steps and knocked on the door, watched only by the falling snowflakes.  
The door opened and Claire looked out. Not expecting what she saw, she pushed open the screen door as the light from her hallway fell onto his face. She was absolutely shocked to see him there.  
"Trevor! What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Chicago?"  
Trevor looked deep into her eyes, knowing he could swim in that shade of brown for years and never find shore. He had missed her. But he pushed on with what he had to say before he lost his nerve. "Claire, you know what the best thing is about second chances?"  
Claire blinked at the question, dumbstruck, words lost in her mouth, surprised that he had apparently dropped out of nowhere to ask.  
Trevor didn't stop. "They're a _**chance**_. And the only real second chances are the one's you take. So I've got to tell you something, Claire."  
Claire tried to calm herself, uncertain where he was going with this. "What is it Trevor?"  
"I think I'm in lo-..." Trevor shook his head. _No,_ he thought, _that's not quite right._ " Well, I just wanted you to know that I've always been... Well, I..." He didn't know how to say it, everything seemed inadequate to what he felt. Sighing in frustration he suddenly leaned forward and took her face in his hands, leaning close without a second thought and kissing her.  
Claire's eyes fluttered closed when his lips touched hers, surprised at the unexpected action, her hands in mid-air. Then as they both continued, her arms slowly slid behind Trevor's shoulders and around his head. They kissed each other eagerly, wrapped in each other's arms as snow fell on them. Finally they broke the kiss, trying to catch their breath, faces close together.  
"Wow... Trevor. I love you too."  
Before Trevor could respond, she kissed him again, grabbing him forcefully so he couldn't back away, and pushing him against the arch of her doorway. Claire kissed him deeply, surprising him this time with her enthusiasm. They broke apart again, gazing into the other's elated faces as they stood on Claire's doorstep, breath misting before them. If there was a chill in the air, they didn't feel it. Trevor smiled warmly at her.  
"Actually, Claire I didn't literally say 'I love you'."  
Claire seemed confused. "Didn't you? I could have sworn I heard it. Let me check again." She leaned forward and kissed him again, longer than before. Trevor actually forgot that he was standing.  
He finally had to come up for air, making Claire laugh. "Oh yeah," he breathed, "definitely heard it that time."  
"Well, well. You're not as insane as you look, or as our best testing indicates." She touched his face. "It took you long enough, Trevor."  
"I know, my bad. I was stupid not to tell you. I love you Claire. I've always loved you."  
"I missed you so much, Trevor. I'm glad you came."  
He looked intently into her eyes, to make her see he was sincere. "Claire I want to be with you, whatever it takes. This is one chance I won't throw away."  
Claire laughed into his shoulder as she held him tighter. "There's hope for you yet, Trevor."  
"Well, I wouldn't go that far..."  
As he held her in his arms, he closed his eyes, relishing the feelings that swept through him. Everything seemed perfect, and he had never been happier. He looked over Claire's shoulder into her hallway, seeing several suitcases sitting there.  
"Claire what is all this? What's with the suitcases?"  
"Oh," she reached into her pocket and pulled out a plane ticket. "I was about to leave. Lucky thing you caught me. Flight to Chicago."  
He didn't understand. "What for?"  
She gave him a small smile. "Not what, who. I was going to see you, actually. To tell you how I felt. As usual, you stole the spotlight from me."  
Trevor laughed. "That's never ever happened. Theoretically impossible. But what about Alex? I thought you were going to try to work things out."  
"Oh the hell with Alex. Some second chances aren't worth it." She looked at him enticingly. "Trevor..." .  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm still not sure I heard it. The 'I love you' part. Tell me you love me again..." Without another word she leaned foward and kissed Trevor again.  
Trevor kissed her, returning her enthusiasm, holding her warm in his arms. Suddenly the world made sense again. Her arms were the only place he wanted to be. As he kissed her, Trevor realized something. Vincent had been right. He was home.  
  
  


THE END


End file.
